Beware the Dark
by mccargi
Summary: When Hermione Granger accepts Ron Weasley's challenge to prove that there are no monsters on the Yorkshire moors, she may be in for a surprise.  Written for the 2011 DMHGHalloween Fest


The wind moaned in the trees creating a haunting melody across the moors. The English countryside took on a decidedly sinister appearance, as the much-anticipated Halloween full moon was obscured by the gathering clouds of a midnight storm. A perfect night for ghosts, goblins, and all manner of fantastical beings to breach the thinning boundaries between the realms and to mix and mingle in the shifting shadows of the stormy night, playing havoc with the mortals, Muggle and magical alike.

A long, streaking bolt of lightning cut across the sky, suddenly illuminating the lone figure, standing on the plain, staring at the dilapidated building in the distance.

For what seemed like the twentieth time in as many minutes, Hermione Granger cursed Ron Weasley's drunken ideas and her own inability to back down from a challenge. Only a particularly dangerous combination of the two could have resulted in her being here, freezing and alone, in the middle of Merlin knows where on a night that was quickly becoming the stormiest of the year.

**One Hour Ago, Harry Potter's Halloween Bash, 12 Grimmauld Place, London**

"Ron, it is entirely unlikely that there are monsters lurking on the Yorkshire moors, let alone _in_ Greymouth Hall," Hermione said with an exasperated sigh. Her loveable, but taxing, best friend had been regaling the partygoers for the last hour with fanciful tales of blood, and gore, and familial curses perpetrated upon the heir of some near-forgotten noble family, which sounded suspiciously like a Muggle fairy tale from her childhood. Really, he was entirely too excitable, especially when he had been drinking Seamus's near toxic Cauldron Punch.

Completely undeterred by Hermione's tone and the warning glances of those around him, Ron slammed his glass on the table and continued. "Oh come on Hermione! You can't deny that place is scary, there's got to be some kind of monster living there. Even Malfoy says the place is, what were his words…'creepy, unnatural, somewhat evil,' and you've seen where he grew up!" Waving his arms about to emphasize the gravity of the situation, Ron managed to lose his already compromised balance, clattering into Seamus and sending them both into a heap on the kitchen floor.

"Ron, for the last time, there is no monster living in the Greymouth Hall. If there was, don't you think someone would have reported it to the Ministry by now? Don't you think there would be some proof? Besides an-"

"I _told_ you about the curse-"

"-urban legend told by teenagers to scare their friends-"

"But mum said-"

"-parents to keep their children from hanging about an abandoned house that should likely be condemned."

"Fine!" Ron shouted pulling himself up from the floor and planting his hands firmly on the table. "If you're so certain there is no monster then why don't you prove it. Go to the moors and have a look 'round."

"What? No! Why would I go out there? It could be dangerous," Hermione cried, astounded that Ron would suggest such a thing.

"Why not? You said yourself there is nothing out there. Are you afraid you might be wrong? That a monster might really be lurking in the shadows?"

"Of course I'm not afraid Ronald. I merely find it impractical to risk injury traipsing about those ruins in the dark."

Ron rolled his eyes.

"Are you a witch or not? Use your wand. Unless…you aren't Gryffindor enough to accept the challenge."

Amidst the "oohs" of her friends and the sound of Lee Jordan taking wagers, Hermione Granger levelled Ron Weasley with one last malevolent glare and swept from the room, gathering her cloak and wand, before Apparating to the northern countryside.

No one noticed as the figure skulking in a darkened doorway slipped quietly out the back door.

**Near Midnight, The Yorkshire Moors**

When she left the party in a fit of pique, firm in her belief that the stories of monsters and familial curses were just idle drivel, tales spun to thrill young adults around the campfire and to keep small children in their beds, she forgot one important thing. Hermione neglected to consider that she was not in the Muggle world of her childhood and that in the wizarding world curses and monsters could be very real. However, as she stood on the darkened moor, contemplating her chances of making it across the flat to the abandoned manor before the rain started, she began to rethink her conviction that nothing was lurking in the darkness, waiting for a foolish, unsuspecting witch to happen by alone.

"Stupid," she muttered to herself. "How could I have been so unbelievably stupid, as to fall for another of Ron's drunken challenges? 'Brightest witch of her age,' indeed."

She contemplated her options, and considered returning to Grimmauld Place immediately, but her pride and the threat of being struck by lightning while Apparating quickly eliminated that alternative. Deciding there was nothing for it, she began to trudge across the moor toward the foreboding ruins of Greymouth Hall to wait out the storm.

Protesting after decades of disuse, the doors groaned on their hinges as Hermione struggled to pull them open against the wind and rain. She opened them just enough to slip through and narrowly missed being squashed, when they slammed shut behind her, the bang echoing through the abandoned halls of the manor. As she shook the leaves out of her clothes and hair, a mournful howl drifted across the plain, whether it was the wind, some foul beast, or her imagination she knew not, but the sound sent shivers down her spine and goose-flesh pimpled her arms.

As she waited for the rain to pass, in the dank, dark shell of the once grand manor, her thoughts moved increasingly toward the fantastic. Shadows took on ominous shapes, ever changing and moving as though alive. The sound of branches scratching against broken windowpanes became all manner of beasties scurrying across the floors and in the walls. Near giving in to her macabre flight of fancy, Hermione almost imagined she could feel the breath of some dastardly creature, a monster as vile and hideous as Ron had claimed, ghosting across the back of her neck. A loose tile fell through the hole in the crumbling roof, shattering upon the floor of the foyer with a deafening crash. Startled, she stumbled and landed in a pile of decaying leaves, watching the light from her wand sputter out as it skidded across the floor.

Sprawled in the now pitch-black entryway, Hermione struggled to control her breathing and calm her racing heart. _Be reasonable Hermione, it was just a piece of the roof falling off in the wind._

Her attempts to rationalize her fears were brought to a halt as she heard footsteps to her left. Slow, cautious footsteps, coming directly toward the place she was resting. Trembling, she edged quietly to her right, hoping to reach her wand, before whomever, or whatever, was moving through the darkness reached her.

Groping desperately in the debris, she finally grasped her wand. Crouching in a defensive pose she spun around bringing her wand up just as the clouds parted and moonlight streamed through the hole in the roof bathing the hall in eerie bluish light and illuminating the figure standing before her. Hermione let loose an ear-splitting scream and fell back into the pile of leaves.

Several moments passed, before she regained her wits enough to recognize the man standing in the swath of moonlight, looking for all the world as though he owned the place.

Scrambling to her feet, she smacked him repeatedly on the chest while she berated him, "Oh my god, Draco! What were you thinking? Were you _trying_ to scare me half to death? Because you accomplished it!" She began to pace, trying to work off the adrenaline pumping through her veins. "Really, lurking about in the dark like a serial killer? What is WRONG with you?"

"I was thinking that you might like some company out here in the wilds, but if you would rather stay alone, I guess I can go back to my nice warm flat," Draco stated, already turning to go back the way he came.

Hermione caught him by the arm. "Wait, you came all the way out here just to keep me company? That's surprisingly sweet of you."

Draco smiled, turning to face her. "Well, I was also hoping that, if you had satisfied your curiosity, I might be able to persuade you to accompany me home."

Hermione stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Draco's waist and rising up on her toes to brush a kiss against his lips.

"I suppose I have had enough of Ron's tricks for one Halloween. Let's go home." Stepping back, she gripped her wand and disappeared with a faint pop.

Draco took a moment to look around the abandoned manor that had once belonged to his father's distant cousin, revelling in the accidental genius of telling the ever-gullible Ron Weasley that there were monsters living in this ramshackle abode. It was always entertaining to watch his imagination run wild as he expanded upon the story with each retelling. Weasley trying to convince Hermione of this and then challenging her to investigate was an unforeseen benefit, as Draco was always trying to find a way to get his wife to leave a Gryffindork gathering early, usually with limited success.

With one last self-congratulatory smirk, Draco Apparated home to his wife, anticipating a Halloween treat of his own.


End file.
